


To the life you make

by More11a



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Awkwardness, Post-Break Up, Soulmates, set in 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/More11a/pseuds/More11a
Summary: It's not that Gerard isn't happy to see Frank, it's more like they're coming from two different worlds now (which they're really not – they're both musicians with families, ex-fangirls' dreams, chaotic, creative minds, Jersey boys). Gerard has always suspected that Frank might be from another planet, even, because how could someone so crazy special be from fucking Belleville. Then again, they're all aliens now.





	To the life you make

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kind of sequel to my fic "To the last parade" which I wrote in 2014 (and will be translating into English soon, so keep an eye out if you want Frank's POV!). I hope I succeeded in making this one a little warmer, a little more hopeful.

It's not that Gerard isn't happy to see Frank, it's more like they're coming from two different worlds now (which they're really not – they're both musicians with families, ex-fangirls' dreams, chaotic, creative minds, Jersey boys). Gerard has always suspected that Frank might be from another planet, even, because how could someone so crazy special be from fucking Belleville. Then again, they're all aliens now.

They meet at a cheap Asian place downtown that he can't even identify as Chinese or Korean or Indian or … anything, and the proprietors don't seem to care either. The fluorescent lights are not exactly flattering once you're past the invisible borderline of 35, and he climbs up on the barstool with a sigh – his legs have been hurting like a bitch since he's tried to work out yesterday.

He plays with his phone. Looks away from where Frank is slurping vegetable noodles that smell like an exploded flavor enhancer factory.   
Frank's arm is still in a cast and Gerard's heart is cast in stone. When he first heard about the Sydney accident, he thought he felt something crack, but maybe it's just been an illusion.   
Sometimes he burrows so deep into Doom Patrol that he has trouble figuring out what is real – an old problem of his, almost as old as trying to blur the boundaries on purpose. 

He looks at the world and can almost see the construction lines; he imagines that, if he took an eraser to the edges of his vision and started rubbing, whiteness might start to show underneath.   
Sometimes, nothing he sees really makes sense, and Frank used to change that, but what if Frank doesn't make sense either? 

Frank has officially broken protocol and they need to talk. It sounds silly, even in Gerard's head, but they had a silent agreement of never forcing their new music on each other, and now Frank has invited him to a Patience show and it's not okay. Because... principles and stuff. Because of reasons. Ha. 

Frank can't just go around and tell Gerard to be part of the crowd while he's on stage, can he?! Apart from the fact that Gerard really has no idea how Frank is going to play guitar with a broken arm (not that he didn't think he'd find a way... it's just shocking to imagine him doing it in any other band than the one they had _together_ ). 

Frank still has that pretty, shiny Italian hair, and seeing his tattoos makes Gerard feel strangely at home, just like Frank's voice that is velvet and honey and all good things and being 30 and wearing uniforms and holding the whole world in your hands, plastic weapons and tour busses and fan art and giggles.   
They were on top of the world, man. Top of the charts. Top of everything.   
Revenge has never been so sweet again, revenge on anyone who's ever spited them, and maybe there are base motives to some things that you can only admit to yourself when you're older. 

Gerard can look back and think: We were heroes, yes. There's no emotion attached to it nowadays, it's just a thought that he knows became a fact. And usually, it's followed by another thought: No one this young should have to be a hero. It's taken him years to admit, but it's true as well, nevertheless.   
Back then, he took it on because he felt it was his task in life, but now, every once in a while, he allows himself to feel sorry for his younger self – for all of their younger selves.   
Because he never might've written a truer line than „You don't know a thing about this life“. They never learned to grow up the normal way, did they? How the hell is he supposed to teach Bandit what growing up means? 

He's digging for the light every day, oh yes, and he still believes it's what it's all about. It's just... some days are harder than others. It's so obvious to everyone that Gerard has moved on, the only person he needs to convince sometimes is himself.   
He really _doesn't_ want the early 2000s back, but some part of his brain apparently hasn't gotten the message and feels some kind of twisted nostalgia. 

The Black Parade is already ten years old, and he was determined not to let anyone rain on his parade, but looking at the big picture, somewhere between everything that's happened in the world, between death and destruction, it's been quite a shitty year, and it really makes him wonder what will become of humanity.   
The problem is, everyone seems to wait for him to say something about it. Once you speak up about one tragedy, people expect you to continue doing so – after all, it's what started the band. 

Danger Days, on the other hand, started as a joke back then, but the truth is Gerard has always had a sort of unhealthy obsession with everything dystopian, and he's getting really fucking scared the closer 2019 gets. Of course, Danger Days is just a fantasy, but sometimes he worries it could be like some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy.   
The future might be going to shit, but the past is a safe place to dwell. He's listened to Frank's new stuff recently, and it sounds so much like Pencey Prep and wacky hair and being young that he almost had to turn it off. Almost. 

„So, uh... you comin' to the show?“ asks Frank and puts down his chopsticks with his good hand to pick up his phone instead, trying to hide the fact that he's hanging on Gerard's every word. Gerard suddenly feels like he's standing in the middle of a mine field, which is not what having lunch with one of your oldest friends should feel like.   
He wishes he could tell himself that he got rid of Frank's flyer as soon as he could, that Jersey's close-to-unreliable garbage disposal service took it to the dump weeks ago... but it's really lying on his nightstand. 

He's suddenly and painfully aware that he has been opening and closing his mouth like a demented goldfish for the past half minute or so.   
Frank is giggling now, which makes it kinda hard to figure out if he just said „Gee!“ or „Geez“, or maybe meant to say both. 

„I didn't think it was this hard to decide. Wait... are you mad at me?“   
He gives Gerard the puppy dog eyes he mastered so long ago.   
„I'm not mad“, says Gerard quickly, „I'm just...“ He doesn't really know what he is, though. Confused sums it up pretty nicely. The word „starstruck“ crosses his mind and now he's almost laughing, too, because he knows Frank would completely misunderstand it and probably kick his ass for making fun of him.   
„What?“ asks Frank and watches him with his perfect brows furrowed. And Gerard makes up his mind. 

„Nah, sorry, I'm not coming to the show. But don't you even think about smashing that pretty new Epiphone of yours, because I will hear of it anyway.“  
Frank smiles at him then, a smile that looks somehow deflated and at the same time, Gerard can't help but notice, incredibly relieved.   
„Okay, man, but you're gonna regret this. It will be the shit. We'll have a fucking _party_.“   
It reminds him of long ago, back when joking and teasing each other was in their nature, back before everything became so much more complicated and, at the same time, so much easier between them.   
At times Gerard feels he's never been closer to anyone, maybe not even Lyn, because she wasn't there from the beginning. Frank was there, through sleeping on top of each other in vans and playing in front of twenty kids all the way through twenty thousand. 

„Does Evan know you're not supposed to have candy after soundcheck?“, Gerard fires back and Frank, laughing, drops his napkin and has to go diving under the table for it, which includes comically hopping off a barstool that wasn't made for short people. 

And while Frank isn't looking at him, Gerard closes his eyes and almost explodes because he missed this so much. 

Maybe the present isn't so bad. Maybe they can deal.


End file.
